by Michael Kun
We’ve already come up with a few ideas for the name of our band. What do you think of these:
1) Kiss This
2) The Daydreamers
3) Thrill Ride
4) Accelerator
5) Scott and the Tornadoes
6) Joe and the Tornadoes
7) I’ve Seen Cath’s Underwear (just seeing if you’re paying attention, but it’s true)
8) The Mirrors
9) The Incredible Mirrors
10) Shrinking Star
11) The Blue Engines
12) Ouch
Number 6 is the worst of the bunch. Who ever heard of a band being named after the rhythm guitarist? (Answer: No one.) Not to poison the well, but you should know that I like numbers 9 and 11 the best.
I don’t want to talk about the Orioles or about Jim Palmer’s underwear.
See you in Florida in a couple days.
Scott
P.S. Are you still a Torpedo?
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
October 11, 1982
Dear Scott,
Did you really need to get in a fight with my boyfriend AND make out with my roommate?
One or the other just wasn’t enough for you? You had to do BOTH?
Jesus. I mean, JESUS!
Cath
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
October 14, 1982
Cath—
Excuse me, but I started a fight with your boyfriend? I started it? Me? You have to be fucking kidding me. I spent an entire weekend taking abuse from your rich, pretentious snob of a boyfriend Walter (“It’s not Walt, it’s Walter”) while you just sat there smiling, and somehow I’m to blame because I finally stuck up for myself? And don’t say he wasn’t giving me a hard time, okay? How many sentences did he start with “If you were familiar with philosophy,” or “If you were familiar with economics,” or “If you were familiar with some of the basic concepts of whatever”? Oh, I’ve got a better one—“Yes, I’m sure that comes up often in a clothing store.” Nice. Very nice.
Listen, I know you like this guy, but how difficult would it have been for you to have said, “Walter, not Walt, this is one of my closest friends since I was 5 years old. I’ve known him for 13 years. I’ve known you for 3 minutes. So you need to chill out.” Would that have killed you?
As for making out with your roommate, why the hell do you care? I don’t tell you who you shouldn’t make out with. But if I did, the first name on the list would begin with a W. If you were familiar with the basic concepts of whatever, you’d know I was referring to Walter, not Walt.
So if you’re looking for an apology, you’re barking up the wrong tree this time, college girl. I drove for seven hours just to see you. I didn’t expect to be treated like crap.
Scott
P.S. And even if I did start a fight with your boyfriend—which I didn’t—how many fights did you start with Samantha? A hundred? A thousand?
P.P.S. I’m asking Todd to be our drummer. I didn’t have to ask your permission. You’re not my mother. I don’t know what you are right now.
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
October 18, 1982
Dear Scott,
I’m really sorry that the visit went so badly. When you pull those sentences out of the conversation, I can see why you got so upset. I kind of thought that Walter was just trying to include you in the conversation. Like when everybody was talking about the stress of getting ready for mid-terms and he said something about the stress of working in a store during the holidays, I thought he was trying to be nice and trying to bring you into the conversation. He’s usually pretty smooth socially. Maybe I’m too starry-eyed about him, but I don’t think he meant to be a jerk. I’m sorry, I really wanted to show you the good things about college and to just have a nice time hanging out together.
Looking back on it, though, I can see how awkward it was for you, and I’m sorry we didn’t just spend more time by ourselves or in a smaller group. I wish you hadn’t stormed back to the dorm by yourself. In hindsight I see that I should have gone with you, if for no other reason than to keep you from running into Dorothy. Which, by the way, we really need to talk about. Not like really talk about, because I have no interest in ever reliving any aspect of opening my dormroom door to find you in Dorothy’s bed. God knows I would scrub my eyeballs and my brainpan with bleach if I thought it would erase the image, so let’s please please please never discuss that again. However, you do need to do something about the overall situation, because you have created a crazy (crazier?) person who happens to live five feet away from me. To update you on the crazy meter: she has taken down the HANG IN THERE, BABY poster and replaced it with an English Beat poster; she springs like a cat and sprints out of the room whenever the hall phone rings and then tries to be super cool when she answers it (“Hu-llooo?”); she painted her nails black and has gone totally overboard on the eyeliner; and she stopped bringing her stinky pizzas back to our dorm room every day. For the last one, I thank you, but for the rest, I say you’d better do something to manage the situation, my friend. You seem to have left her with the distinct impression that she’s your girlfriend and that you are some sort of hard-assed rocker dude. Judging from the tone of your last letter and the fact that you’ve got Todd on drums, maybe you have become a hard-assed rocker dude, but let’s all admit that Dorothy is not really your girlfriend, shall we? And perhaps clear that up sooner rather than later, okay, because she is hinting around about coming home with me for Thanksgiving, and if you don’t start being nice to me again, I may just let her tag along.
Well, I don’t know where to go from here, so I’ll just sign off with:
1. I really am sorry we didn’t have a better visit; and
2. I hope we can still hang out at Thanksgiving (without Dorothy). My mother would be confused and devastated if you didn’t join us for leftovers on Friday.
Still your friend(?),
Cath
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
October 21, 1982
Cath,
What?
Or, to put it more accurately, WHAT?!?!
Or, as they would say in France, WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?! (Sorry, but I didn’t pay much attention in French.)
I just had to go back and reread your letter to make sure I didn’t misread it or to see if maybe you were joking.
You’re not joking, are you?
Dorothy thinks she’s my girlfriend?
Your roommate Dorothy, who I fooled around with once when I was drunk, thinks she’s my girlfriend?
Your roommate Dorothy, whose last name I don’t even know, thinks she’s my girlfriend?
Dorothy, who would know my last name only if you happened to tell her, thinks she’s my girlfriend?
Dorothy, who wouldn’t even know how to contact me unless you gave her my address and phone number, thinks she’s my girlfriend?
WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?
Sorry to break out the French again, but that is absolutely, completely, 100% batshit insane.
Look, I know that weekend was horrible for too many reasons to mention, but I give you my word of honor as a Tornado that I didn’t do anything to even suggest to Dorothy that our, ahem, encounter was anything more than one very drunk guy fooling around with one lonely sober girl with a HANG IN THERE, BABY poster over her bed. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time. Yes, we fooled around, but we didn’t … I don’t even want to say it, so kindly make a ring with the thumb and index finger of your left hand and poke the index finger of your right hand in and out of it a few times. You know what I mean. Think of the last week of our Sex Ed class. We didn’t do that.
I was about to write that this will be easy for me to handle because I live hundreds of miles
away and she doesn’t know how to reach me, except for the fact that SHE JUST CALLED WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS STUPID LETTER TO YOU. At least I assume it’s her because my mom just popped in to say that Dorothy Golper is on the phone for me. Is that her? Golper? I made out with a Golper? Anyway, I told my mom to tell her that I’m out for the night.
Give me a call when you get this so we can discuss how I should handle this. If she weren’t your roommate, I’d probably just dodge her calls or tell her she’s mistaken about the whole girlfriend thing, but I apreciate that might make things messy for you. And while making things messy for you is normally something I’d be very interested in, and which has some appeal after having to deal with that Walter jerk, I’ll try not to do it this one time. If you want to call me during the day, you can call me at the store. It’s dead until 3 p.m. most weekdays.
Take care,
Scott
P.S. I wrote two new songs for the band last night. Just the lyrics, but I have the music in my head. Let me know if you want me to share the lyrics.
P.P.S. Please note that I didn’t say a single bad thing about your boyfriend in this entire letter. Oh, hold on, I just reread the letter and I did.
P.P.P.S. Golper? Seriously?
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
October 25, 1982
Dear Scott,
Oh my gosh, it was so good to talk to you last night! How typical of us that you drive all the way down here, everything is weird, and then we have a great conversation on the phone. Next time let’s just skip the weirdness, okay?
Maybe you were just trying to be upbeat because I was getting emotional about my family stuff, but it sounds like things are going much better for you at the store. I knew your dad’s positive attitude would rub off on you and you would start to enjoy it more. And yes, you should definitely play at the Morrisons’ party over Thanksgiving weekend if you think your band will be ready by then. It’s not a lot of time, but I think all of our high school friends are really looking forward to being home and getting together at that party. I’m sure they would love to see your band. The song lyrics that you read to me on the phone were great, and it would be really cool to mix in some of your original stuff with the classics from high school.
Are you doing anything fun for Halloween? Buckle your seat belt, because I have some pretty fun plans to tell you about—I’ll be WORKING on Halloween. Yep. No joke. I forgot to tell you last night, but I got a job twirling pizza dough. And then spreading sauce on it. And then usually covering it with pepperoni and cheese. Jane and I decided we need some spending money, so we got jobs at the Pizza Pan in the basement of the dorm across the quad. Sometimes we make pizza and sometimes we deliver it. Or, I should say, sometimes I deliver it. On her first delivery, Jane had to go to a boys’ dorm and was all nervous and jittery about being surrounded by cute boys. She spun around too quickly with a pizza box in her hand and the pizza flew out of the box like a Frisbee. She was horrified and ran out of there crying while the pizza slid down the wall, and now I take her turns as well as my own on the delivery rotation. Here are some fun facts about delivering pizza on a college campus: Boys who want pizza past 9 p.m. invariably live on the third floor of a building that doesn’t have an elevator or air-conditioning, are stoned out of their minds, don’t have any money for tips, and are stupid enough to offer me a bong hit or a beer as a tip instead. Girls on the other hand just grab the box, yell “Thanks!” and slam the door. No tips there, either, but at least we avoid the awkward bong hit conversation. I don’t know who I love more.
So all roads seem to lead us back to pizza-eating girls. (And yes, The Golper’s pizza-eating has resumed. With a vengeance.) To follow up on what we talked about last night, you really, really do need to write a “Dear Dorothy” letter. Just make something up. A girlfriend. A boyfriend. Whatever. Just get her to stop going through my stuff for tidbits of information about you and weeping through her black eyeliner. I know that’s mean, but I’m worried that she’s going to pick up the phone when my mom calls and somehow cajole her way into a Thanksgiving weekend invitation. She’s very good at seeming cheerful and pathetic all at the same time. (“Oh, Mrs. Osteen, that care package you sent to Catherine was so lovely! I wish my mother was as thoughtful as you are! Oh, no, I can’t afford to go home for the holidays, but they say the turkey in the Pit isn’t that bad.”) Can you imagine me rolling into the Morrisons’ house with her in tow? That would certainly put an interesting spin on the evening.
I get my paycheck this Friday and may try to come home the weekend after next. Thanksgiving is so late this year, I don’t really want to wait that long. Could you maybe pick me up at the bus station in Baltimore?
Off to the Z for some calculus homework (wanted to throw that in so you could go right to sleep after reading this letter).
Much love,
Cath
P.S. Should I be worried that Walter (not Walt) is super excited about his fraternity’s annual Halloween party even though I can’t go because I’ll be working?
P.P.S. You have no interest in giving me any advice about Walter, do you?
P.P.P.S. Are we back on good enough terms that I can tell you that the word “appreciate” has two Ps in it and we’ll still be friends?
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
October 28, 1982
Cath—
Great to talk to you the other night, too. And that’s cool that you got a job at that pizza place. You’ll have to sneak a pizza or two out next time I visit. Sausage and peppers on top, please.
Of course I’d be happy to pick you up at the bus station in Baltimore when you come home—but only if you are alone. If you’re bringing Walter home for the weekend, well, it might make sense for me to keep my distance. Same thing if you’re bringing Dorothy. (However, if you are bringing that cute blond girl named Wendy, then I would be pleased to come pick you both up at the bus station. In fact, if you feel like you need to spend time with your parents, you are more than welcome to have her stay at our place for the weekend. More than welcome. Much, much more than welcome. Extremely welcome. Have I made my point? May I stop now?)
Speaking of Dorothy, I have written three “Dear Dorothy” letters, which I will enclose. Please let me know which one you think would work the best. Until then, I will not be answering the phone.
Regarding your question about Walter and his fraternity’s Halloween party, I’m sure your boy Walter is just excited about the party because he and his buddies will be rubbing olive oil all over each other and then wrestling on the kitchen floor. That’s what those frat guys do, right?
And speaking of wrestling on the floor, what’s the story with that girl Wendy? Where’s she from? Is she dating anyone? Has she ever dated a rock star/clothing salesman?
By the way, our band’s new name is Crush. It has a double meaning. It can mean “crush” like destroying something, but it can also mean “crush” like having a crush on someone. I’m working on designing a logo for the band, too. Eventually, we’ll get around to playing some music. It’s important to put the cart before the horse, don’t you think? First the name and the logo, then the music. I’ll bet that’s how the Beatles did it.
Oh, speaking of music, have you heard the new album by Prince? It’s called 1999. I’ve never heard anything like it. The title song is really funky, and you’ll absolutely love a song called “Little Red Corvette.” Hint: it’s not really about a little red Corvette. Let me know if you want me to make a tape of it for you.
Talk to you soon.
Scott
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
Dear Dorothy,
I have just returned from the doctor, and he tells me that I have something called “herpes.” It’s pronounced “her-peas.
” I’m afraid I wasn’t really paying attention while he was talking, so I don’t know what it is, but it sounds cool, don’t you think?
I can’t wait to come down to see you again so we can take our relationship to another level!
Very truly yours,
Scott
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
Dearest Dorothy,
It is with mixed feelings that I must tell you that I have decided to enlist in the United States Marine Corps. I am shipping out as soon as I put this letter in the mail.
I will think of you often, but believe it is important for you to forget about me and move on. Yes, move on and don’t ever look back. That’s what I want for you.
If you should happen to call my house and hear a voice that sounds like mine, that’s my dad.
And if someone should visit Cath who looks like me and answers to the same name, that’s also my dad. He’s very young looking and apparently very close to Cath. And apparently his name is Scott, too.
I wish you the best of luck. Now I’m off to Vietnam.
Sincerely,
Scott
P.S. Also, I have herpes.
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AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING